Yes, it could be the pink and red month for some happy hearts, but this year the sea painted a different color before and during the start of February — a dull, dark, deep blue color of mourning for some. Just last week, M/V Trisha Kerstin, a passenger ferry from Zamboanga to Jolo, sank off the waters of Basilan, leaving at least 40 people dead and others still missing.
Before that, multiple vessels went down in the southern seas from Surigao, Tawi-Tawi, and Davao Occidental. Just today, as of writing, I also received news of a fire in the engine compartment of a passenger vessel navigating Surigao Strait with more or less a hundred people on board.
Week after week, we are seeing a series of maritime mishaps all over the country.
Could it be the strong waves? The lack of vessels’ seaworthiness? The moving plates of the Earth? The wind? What is it? Why is it always at sea?
I mean, yes, road accidents are also common, but imagine when you’re left out at sea with nothing to protect you from the giant waves, the extreme heat of the sun, the hunger, the freezing cold nights, and who knows, maybe sea creatures lurking for food.
So let’s pause for a bit and ask: Is this our new normal? Are we just mere audiences to sea accidents that could also happen to us? Families are grieving. Lives aren’t just numbers on the manifest.
These are fathers working to provide food, mothers and children, and even fishermen and seamen just trying to send their children to school. These are people just trying to live with dreams they have yet to build, but there’s one thing in common: They all trusted the maritime system with their lives.
For every sinking, for every vessel fire or collision, here we are just watching another headline scroll by, as if accepting that people die every day at sea as part of our country being an archipelago.
And yet, sometimes we ask ourselves why some people are still not fans of riding boats or ships in their personal travel and still prefer planes and airports, no matter how crowded they may be. Maritime safety is something that we can and must address.
And this is exactly why port infrastructure and maritime governance should never be treated as “just another development project.” Because behind every port terminal, every ramp, every inspection checklist, there is a life that will eventually pass through it. Although, of course, it is the job of Maritime Industry Authority (MARINA) and the PCG to inspect vessels’ seaworthiness and the manifest of people inside the ship after sailing from port, their journey begins the moment a passenger steps into a port.
In fact, in a recent press conference, Department of Transportation (DoTr) Acting Secretary Giovanni Lopez said that real development is about connectivity as a system. Roads, bridges, ports, and airports have to work together. The Philippine Ports Authority’s (PPA) leaders, headed by general manager Jay Santiago, this February also led on-site inspections in Matnog Port in Bicol and in the ports of Samar, experiencing firsthand the port conditions, the movement of passengers, how cargo flows from truckers to porters, to the builders, construction works, and the engineers at ports.
Matnog Port, in particular, is one of the country’s most critical maritime gateways, linking Luzon to the Visayas region. During peak seasons, it becomes a pressure point with long lines, tight schedules, and a shortage of vessels versus an overwhelming number of passengers.
The DoTr and PPA have since laid out plans to rehabilitate and modernize the port, including the Sorsogon RoRo Terminal Expansion Project and the proposed expansion of the marshalling area to improve traffic circulation and vehicle holding capacity. Less congestion means better crowd control, better circulation, and wider spaces, while additional vessels mean more emergency access and operational discipline.
Connectivity is not just about movement; it should be a continuity of safety, whether by land, sea, or air. Everything is interconnected. A modern port serving outdated vessels still invites tragedy. So maybe the question is no longer why sea accidents keep happening at sea, but how long we are willing to change the systems that make them possible. Your guess is as good as mine, for we are all on the same boat (not a sinking one, please).
At its core, what this week’s inspections represent is a shift in leadership style, one that’s less boardroom and more boots on the ground. A hands-on approach that values firsthand experience over secondhand reports. It’s a small but meaningful signal that policymaking is becoming more rooted in lived realities. Changes should be felt by everyday Filipinos, more than just in policy documents, more than just an upgrade in infrastructure.
In the end, this is not a love story. There are no happy endings in sinking vessels, no romance in overcrowded ports, no poetry in families waiting for bodies instead of arrivals. This February, while some celebrate love, others are learning grief.
February is not about romance; it is about responsibility. About choosing systems that protect life, leadership that shows up, and a country that refuses to accept tragedy as routine. Because love, in its truest form, is not found in grand gestures, but in making sure people come home ALIVE.